Doggy Days
by kemiro-wolf
Summary: [Rewrite] When America and Denmark decide to mess around with England's magical potions and powders, the two of the two of them wake up to find out that they've somehow turned into dogs, and what's worse, they've managed to change every nation into dogs as well! Now all of them must work together to get the antidote and change themselves back into humans. (OCs are present here.)
1. Magical Potions and Four Legs

**Doggy Days**

_**Chapter 1**_

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**Disclaimer**: I do not own Hetalia nor the official characters; those belong to Himaruya Hidekaz. I merely own the plot, ideas, and my own characters in this fan-made work.

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The first thing the man thought when he become aware of the pitch black darkness surrounding him was, '_Oh, God. Am I...Am I dead?_' Quickly, he tried to move from whatever position he was in, but a sharp pain shot through his temples and caused him to grunt suddenly. He continued to try and sit up, but the pain slowly began to spread and he finally yield to it.

'_If I can feel pain_,' he thought after dropping back into his previous position and realizing that he hadn't moved as far as he had thought, '_Then I'm not dead. That's good...I guess._' With a groan, the man gradually pried his eyes open, but the searing sunlight pouring in from a nearby window in front of him stung his pupils; he was quick to shut them again to prevent any more damage to himself. His head was constantly pounding, he had horribly body aches all over, and now his eyes felt as if they'd been burned out of their sockets. '_How the hell did I manage to do this to myself?_' How the hell _did_ he manage to do this to himself? What happened to get him all achy in the first place? The man thought hard, trying to recall what was going on before he had woke up here...in this place.

'_I was at my house getting ready for...no. That was last week._' He shook his head slightly then gritted his teeth at the pain his headache was causing him. '_No, I wasn't home. I went to...Arthur's place. Yeah! That's right, I wanted him to go to McDonald's with me._' A pout formed on his face as he thought, '_All I wanted was us to spend some bro time together, and Arthur had turned down my offer. Like he always does when it comes to eating at McDonald's never hang out like we used to._'

'_Alright, so I was at his place, asked if he wanted to go grab something to eat with me and he denied me and...I...remember him "kindly escorting" me out of his house and he left to go upstairs just as someone else came over but I...don't remember who...and we snuck back into his house because he left the door unlocked.._.'

'_Oh perfect. Now I can't figure out who else was at his house with me. Am I suffering from amnesia or something?_' He opened his eyes again, but this time kept them squinted to keep the sun from hurting them; that was when he noticed a large wooden beam was lying right on top of his lower torso along with varies-sized derbies, trapping him under it. '_Oh, so fucking perfect_,' was the sarcastic, droned out statement in his mind.

Once again, he tried to concentrate on the previous events despite the growing pain that had now spread from his temples to the back of his head. Then it hit him.

Quite literally actually; something fell down from a shelf somewhere above him and smacked him in the head with enough force to elicit a sharp yelp from him and caused his headache to become even worse, if that was possible. The man bit his lip to keep the scream of pain and annoyance from threatening to break free of his throat. He looked down and saw a small wooden box over to his left; the container was mostly scorched and open, however, it was tilted back with it's bottom facing the man and he was unable to see the contents inside. '_The hell..._'

"Owww..."

A low, painful groan caught his attention and he looked to the right just in time to witness a pile of rubble rising up bit by bit as if...as if something struggled as it tried to claw its way to the surface. The man's breath hitched in his throat. He was still stuck underneath the beam, but when he turned back to the thing, it was already too late.

After throwing a few more scraps out of the way, a light brown dog with a rusty hue to its fur stepped out of the mound. It had a dark muzzle and eye markings as well as a black-tipped tail and paws. The dog shook itself off then looked at the mess it had just emerged from with a confused expression, or at least what the man thought was a look of bewilderment on its face. The dog snorted and turned his way and after spotting the other, its face lit up.

"Hey, Amerika!" the animal barked in a thick accent, its tongue lolling out of the side of its open muzzle.

Wait a second. He knew that voice!

"D...Denmark?" '_Okay. Just exactly what the hell is going on here?!_' The dog -Denmark- quickly jumped from the pile and, hopping over a few more wooden beams, stood in front of the man with that huge signature grin of his. "Are you stuck~?" he asked and leaned down in the man's face, his grin spreading even wider.

"What do you think, Denmark?" he snapped. He knew the dog could clearly see the wooden plank crushing his legs. "Just move this already."

"Godkende!" Denmark pushed the beam off of America's legs using his head. '_Weird_,' the other thought as he watched the dog, '_He's acting like he's been a dog forever...does he not even know he's a dog?_'

He didn't even take a look at his legs to see if they were bruised or anything of the sort. He wished he had done that. As soon as Denmark stood back, America swiftly leapt to his feet, overjoyed to finally be free of the heave pole...

...and he fell flat on his face. Blue eyes widened at the shock of the impact and the reality that he could not stand up caused panic to seep into those clear orbs. His gaze shot over to the brown dog who was laughing hysterically, his booming voice ricocheting off of the room's walls. "Oh, man! That was hilarious!" America just ignored him and tried to stand up again, only to meet the floor with the same faith as before.

Denmark was practically roaring by now as America raised his upper body off the ground, and that was when he caught sight of his paws and -wait. What? He looked back down and, sure enough, his hands had been replaced by paws. He screamed in horror and thought, '_Paws?! I have paws?! What. The. Hell?!_'

"Mathias!" he called out, using the Nordic nation's human name. This earned him a quick scowl and a snort from the older dog, but America had no time to worry about that. "W-why do we have paws?" Though he attempted to keep calm, panic laced his voice and caused it to rise in pitch as he spoke. Beside him, the nation-turned-dog chuckled and a few snorts, but quickly stifled them, before saying, "What do you mean, Amerika? _You're_ the one with the paws, doggy boy!" He started snickering again and the super nation scrunched his face up in a scowl. "You have paws, too," he informed him. "In fact, you have the entire body of a dog!" What he said caused Denmark's irritating laughter to cease instantly and the tawny dog's eyes went wide.

"You're lying," Denmark said in a hushed tone, then he whirled around and made a beeline for a jagged piece of mirror that was propped up against a wall where the mound of rubble that America was trapped under was. The younger country looked at Denmark staring at the broken glass; he gaped at the reflective surface for a good minute, like his brain was trying to register his appearance, and he jumped when the Dane let out a shriek.

"What the hell!" he screamed, never looking away from the mirror. "What. In. The. Hell?!" The stocky dog's mouth dropped open even more and his blue eyes looked like they would pop out of his head at any given second. "This...this cannot be happening," he said and America, who had learned how to use his four legs correctly in the meantime, moved closer to get a look at his own reflection. "Yeah, but it is," he replied, craning his neck. "I don't know how you didn't even realize that you were a dog in the first place."

Reflected in the mirror, beside the Denmark-dog, was another dog with shaggy golden fur, a dark brown muzzle and ring marking around the mane on his neck, and the dog also had the exact same hair style that America's sported in his human form, the Nantucket cowlick and all. He was a bit taken aback by the reflection, since it resembled his human body and clothing almost exactly, and the dog lifted one foreleg and saw the reflection do the same. Then he tried sticking his tongue out. The mirror-dog copied him. Yep, that was him all right.

While busy playing in the mirror, America caught a glance of Denmark giving him a weird look; the dog's mouth was very slightly ajar in what America read as "_what are you doing?_" but the Nordic nation's eyes were narrowed and trained on him. "_I blame you for this._"

"What?" the younger country asked as he turned to face the mirror again, this time tilting his head to the left to get a better look at the collar around his neck -and to prevent having his pendent-shaped ears snagged by Denmark; the dog looked like he was just about ready to pounce on the American. '_Well how 'bout that? My tag's got my flag on it_.'

"Hey," Denmark said, getting the other's attention. "Hey, Amerika, we need to get this fixed! I can't go back to my brothers looking like this!" He huffed and continued: "The next thing you know, Finland will be taking care of me and feeding me dog food!"

"What's so bad about that?" the golden-furred dog asked and turned to the side to see his poofy tail. "Maybe they'll let you sleep on the couch."

Denmark snorted. "Oh, haha. Very funny."

"Y'know, I could probably get used to this."

"What? Being a mutt?" America looked at the tawny dog to see that he was now sitting on his haunches. "I'm not a mutt! I'm a Hero Dog!" the American barked loudly, causing Denmark to cringe and roll his eyes. "Anyway, I could have all the hamburgers I wanted with this adorable face," he added in a failed version of the way a mother might talk to her infant to get it to laugh.

"Ja, uanset. Anyway, do you have any clues to why we're like this?" Denmark picked his hind leg up and started to scratch violently at his ribs. "Oh great, not only am I a dog, but I came complete with fleas," he muttered and leaned to the side so he could claw at his hanging ears. America shook his head. "Nope. You?"

"If I had any, why would I ask you?" Denmark retorted and stood up. He took another glance around the room and grimaced. "How did this even happen?"

America stretched and sat back down; he also looked around the room just to see it was nearly destroyed with bricks scattered everywhere, wooden pillars strewed across the floor along with other miscellaneous derbies. "So...what do we do now?" The brown dog in front of him looked himself up and down. "Fix _this_. Like I said, I can't go home as a dog."

Both pairs of ears perked up when they heard a loud yelp that drifted down from the second floor. The dogs exchanged glances and ran out of the doorframe of the room they were in and into the living room of the house; this part wasn't as badly damaged as the other room, but where there was once high-priced, elegant carpet lay bits and pieces of broken glass and some bricks from the previous room. To their right were a flight of stairs and the America practically flew up them at the speed of light.

On the second floor landing, or what was left of it, was where part of the house's roof had caved in and was resting at a slant that lead down to the back part of the destroyed room. America's eyes caught a blond dog with dark-colored markings and floppy ears clinging to a portion of the roof for dear life; its legs dangled off of the left edge of the shingled ceiling and its teeth were gritted as it tried to keep itself from sliding any further into the whole, but to no avail. The dog had the same hairstyle of a certain man who had pushed his younger brother out of his house earlier that day. England?

"E-England? It that...is that you?"

Fear-filled emerald eyes flashed over at the personification of the United States on the landing and the dog barked out, "O-of course it's me!"

America's jaw dropped.

"Well don't just stand there! Help me, you git!" The Englishman's voice had heightened in pitch and he began to frantically try and claw his way back up to safer, more stable ground. America bounded over to England, grabbed him by the blue collar that had been placed around his neck, and pulled the dog toward him with ease; he didn't stop until his older brother was safe on the other half of the landing.

After coughing and trying to growl at the same time, England finally caught his breath and looked up at America with a fuming look in his usually calm eyes; now there was a storm brewing behind those green orbs. America gulped audibly and took a step back to avoid the oncoming storm that was sure to burst free of its mortal container. "You did this, didn't you?" England asked lowly and all America could do as give a nervous smile.

"If you mean causing the roof to cave in, then I guess, but turning you into a dog? I don't think so, Britain."

" 'ey! Yer can't call him Britain whaen we're not raun!" America whirled his head in the direction of the voice to see who its owner was, but England only groaned; he knew exactly who was behind them. The '_click-click_' of claws on the polished wood floor sounded simultaneously with the lithe figure of another dog as his made his way to the second landing. His signature flat cap was still upon a head of short and curly red hair, which contrasted drastically with his grey-brown, slightly spotted coat. The thin dog looked around and whistled. "Looks like quite 'ames yer got 'ere, aye, brah'der?" he asked, looking straight at England though the dog had his back turned to him.

"Hey, Paddy," America said in a cheery tone. Before he had even got finished with the sentence, the thin dog's head snapped over to him and his thick eyebrows furrowed. "What 'av oi towl yer aboyt callin' me dat, yer brat? Me name's Patrick, an' you're not even allowed ter call me dat." After that was said, the dog gnashed his teeth together, signifying his annoyance. "tis jist Ireland' ter yer."

"Jeez, man, okay," America muttered, his facial expression turned sour. Just then, Denmark came running up the stairs and skidded to a stop a stop before he ran into the hot tempered dog's back. The personification of Northern Ireland looked over his shoulder and at the other dog who was walking up the stairs behind Denmark. "Ah, Vaughn, oi see yer finally decided ter join us, auld man." There was a playful tone in his voice and, once the short-legged dog reached the topmost stair and rolled his eyes at his younger brother's use of his human name. "Hey, dude, why's your older brother so...short? Last time I saw him, he was taller than you," the American dog whispered to England, who sighed and shrugged. The British dog turned to face his new company and nodded at them.

"Ireland, Wales." "Hej, England! Don't forget about me!" a cheerful Dane replied, not wanting to be left out. England's eyes flashed anger and he glared at the other dog. "You were in on this, too Denmark?!" he barked, referring to the distraction of his house and him being transformed into a dog. He lunged forward, Ireland and Wales stepped off to the side to avoid being hit, but America grabbed the collar around his neck. This caused England to come to a halt just as his forelegs made it off the ground.

"Alfred, let go of me!"

"Amerika, don't do it," Denmark warned and took a few steps back. "I don't want to die yet!"

"England, calm down. M-maybe we can figure this out without hurting anybody?" America said around the died leather in his mouth. With that, the older dog huffed, but he settled down anyway. America let go of his collar and sat down beside him. "Before you ask '_oh, what did you bloody wankers do this time?_', we don't know what we did," Denmark said, mocking the Englishman's accent as best he could, and lied on his stomach as America turned to England. "So do you think you can help us remember something or..."

"You four should know what you did! You obviously barged right back into my house!" England's temper was starting to flare again. The personification of Northern Ireland lifted his lip. "What? Yer four? Me an' Wales weren't even in yisser house, Englan'."

"Then why are you dogs?"

"Oi dunno! You tell me! De explosion wus in yisser house after all. We were futtin' it ter yisser place, but we never went in," he explained and the short-to-the-ground Wales nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we were on our way to say hi since you don't really ever stop by our homes to talk..."

Well, the two of them were right; though together, Northern Ireland, Wales, Scotland, and England did make up Great Britain, the youngest of hardly ever stopped by for a visit anymore. Then, the thought hit him. England hopped to his feet and the abrupt transfer of positions caused both America and Denmark to wince; America only did so because he was bracing himself for impact of the shorter dog's body into his ribs, and Denmark out of fear that England would come after him. "Where Scotland and your sister?" he barked."No. No, more importantly, _where is your sister?_"

"We don't know," the Welshman said slowly. He had entirely forgotten about his younger brother and sister.

"We have to go find them! If they're dogs -if she's a dog- all hell's going to break loose and she'll come for me!"

"Feck dat, Englan'. We," he gestured to himself and the eldest of the siblings -who was frantically shaking his head no- " ill go find 'er because is she's already mad about being turned into a bitch an' she sees yisser face, she's gonna think its your fault and start bitchin' at all av us. 'Tis best dat yer stay oyt av dis."

England calmed himself after a few minutes of thinking it over. "Oh, alright," he sighed.

"Go an' see if de other nations are pooches 'ill yer?" Ireland said as he turned around and began to head down the stairs, his shorter older brother following close behind. "We don't want ever single country showin' up at yisser door an' blamin' yer for bein' turned into dawgs, nigh do we?" Both dogs bounded down the stairs and out of the front door that was just hanging by one hinge. England, America, and Denmark watched them disappear out of sight.

America took this time to break the silence. "So," he droned out awkwardly, "Are we going to get going or what?"

"I guess we should get going then," England sighed. "Alright you two, let's go-"

"Hey Denmark, race ya to the park!" America took off down the stairs, pushing past England and knocking him over. "America, you git-" He gasped as Denmark leaped over him and landed on his front paw in the process. The Dane either didn't hear him or didn't care as he elicited a uttered a pained cry from the dog on the floor. "You two are utterly unmanageable! And who said we were going to the park anyway? No one's going to be at the park if they've been turned into dogs! You two get back here!"

The dog scrambled to his feet and ran down the flight of stairs and out the door, pushing himself to his limit as he tried vainly to catch up with the two dogs who were competing against each other.

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**Translations**:

Amerika - America (Danish)

Godkende - Confirmed (Danish)

Ja, uanset - Yes, whatever (Danish)

Hej - Hello (Danish)

America is a golden retriever /Chesapeake Bay retriever mix

Denmark is a Broholmer England is a border collie Northern Ireland is a lurcher Wales is a Cardigan Welsh corgi

Well what can I say guys. I write long stories xD I hope you guys enjoyed Chapter 1 of Doggy Days! The story was in a _very_ desperate need of a rewrite so I spent six hours working on it today .3.

Again, I tried to keep the canon characters as in-character as possible, but I'm still experimenting with them. Anyway, my Danish is a bit...rusty, but so far I think the translations are right (at least I hope they are), and I found it fun to type out my Irish character's accent (though I may stop doing that in later chapters...no I dn't think so).

Again, I hope you enjoyed reading, and I'm all for reviews and/or critiques on my writing.


	2. We're Going to Cana- Who's House Again?

**Doggy Days**

**Chapter 2**

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Canada had slept in that day, which was something he rarely did. And waking up on the floor was something he rarely did as well.

The young man who was the representative of Canada groaned and rolled over, trying to get the thin linen off of him; all he did was tangle his legs up in the sheets more and, annoyed by this, he sat up and fiercely kicked the blanket off of him. That was when he noticed the short, orange, and very furry legs in front of him. Purple eyes widened at the sight, and Matthew held his breath and let his eyes slowly took a look at the rest of his body. '_Those are not mine. Those are not mine. Those are not mine. Those aren't – oh mon Dieu!_' The man's gaze finally landed on his liver-colored nose; he nearly freaked out, but he only released the breath he was holding in for a few seconds and looked over to his bed. The thing was...taller than he last remembered. "No. Don't panic; don't jump to conclusions just yet," he said to himself after taking a few shaky breaths to calm himself down. "This is probably just some really bad dream…or a trick America's playing on me. Yes, that's it. But to make sure, I'll go and check..." Canada shakily pushed himself onto all four paws and made his way across his bedroom floor as he tried to keep himself from wobbling on the new appendages; he slowly nudged the door to his bedroom open using his so-not-real dog nose. The Canadian stepped out into the hallway of his house. As he padded down the sun-light corridor, he noticed that everything around him was at least four feet higher than it usually was –again, he told himself to not jump to conclusions- the pictures hanging on the wall of him and his brother were so high up that he wasn't able to properly make out the frames' contents due to him seeing a reflective glow cast in by the sun's rays on them. He even had trouble seeing the low-hanging picture of his pet polar bear, Kuma...'_What was his name again?_' Matthew shrugged it off. Now the blond was starting to second guess his previous statement when he walked into the bathroom; the door was already ajar, so all he had to do was nudge that open with his nose, too.

The young man took another deep breath and hoisted his upper body onto the counter that held his sink and gazed into a wall-mounted mirror. As soon as his feet touched the cool surface of the counter, the Canadian's mouth gaped open. There, staring back at him from the mirror was an orange colored, long haired dog with its mouth hanging open. The canine had the same hairstyle as Canada did and its fur had some blond strands in it. Canada immediately threw himself off the counter and let out a yelp as the back of his head connected with the hard tile floor. He leaped to his feet, swaying a little as he stood; he slowly rose on his hind legs to peek at the mirror again. He gasped again when he saw the dog's reflection slowly peak over the horizon of the white counter top, synchronizing itself with Canada's movements. Matthew then hopped up and down and the reflection did the same. '_Merde_.' The once-human Canadian hoisted himself onto the counter and stood with all four paws together to fit into the small space with a sigh. He inhaled deeply and tilted his head to the side, watching his copy do the same, and something in the thick fur around his neck caught the artificial light illuminating the bathroom and he turned his attention to it. The dog leaned in to get a better look at the shiny tag around his neck; it had an image that was orange-red, the same color as the maple leaf on his country's flag, and the tag itself was white and rectangular in shape, an exact copy of the Canadian flag. A whimper escaped the animal's throat and he parted his lips slightly, forming a worried expression. This collar...did that mean he was owned by someone? If so, who, and would they come looking for him?

The dog whimpered again at the thought of someone barging into his home unexpectedly and dragging him out the door by his collar. As his mind whirled about these things, Canada absentmindedly tried to sit down on the counter, but he had forgotten that his feet had taken up all the counter space. He suddenly remembered that but in that split second, the dog's back end had already slipped off the edge. Matthew found himself on his back again, staring up at the white ceiling of his bathroom. His head throbbed again and this got him up on his feet again. "Now what?" he sighed and walked back out the door. "Maybe this is just some sort of bad dream," he thought out loud, "And if I go back to bed, then I might be able to wake up from this nightmare." Canada nodded in self approval and upped his pace to a quick trot as he made a beeline for his bedroom. The door was open, just like he had left it, but something small and white obscured his vision of his bed. The figure was standing on top of the pile of sheets Canada had escaped from; it tilted its head slightly as beady black eyes locked onto the orange dog. It blinked.

"Who are you?" it asked in a cute, yet curious, voice.

Canada recognized that voice. It was his pet polar bear.

"Kumi...uh," he trailed off, forgetting his pet's name for a second. "Uh, it's me. Canada." The bear only blinked again.

"Who are you?" he repeated and his owner mentally face-palmed. "Canada," the dog droned out. "Your owner? Uh, never mind." He quickly trotted over in front of the white bear and jumped over him and landed on top of his bed.

"But my owner is a human," Kumajirou said, looking up at the orange dog who was currently scrunching up one of his goose feather-stuffed pillows. "Aha, you got me. You're right. Your owner is a human," Canada said and went back to folding and biting his pillow to get it as comfy as possible. After he was content with the cushion's state, the dog plopped his upper body down on it and looked below, but his bear had curled up on the linen and fell asleep. Canada cocked his head to the side. "I guess we all need a little bit of sleep." He put his furry head down on the pillow and closed his eyes.

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A sudden rattling noise followed by a very loud crash shook the Canadian from his slumber. He yelped loudly and jumped to his feet, ready to flee at the first sight of an attacker. He may have been a dog, but that didn't mean he was prepared to fight. Wide purple eyes searched every corner of the small bedroom and he was again startled by glass crashing onto the floor in the hallway.

"Martin!" an obnoxious, powerful voice yelled from the hall. "Hey! Where the heck are ya, bro?"

"Quiet, America! He's probably asleep," a voice laced with a British accent scolded the noisy person, who only scoffed. "Who stays asleep past three in the morning?" he asked, sounding as if waking up at seven-thirty a.m. was blasphemy.

Back in the bedroom, Canada let out a groan. 'It's only America and England,' he thought. The dog could feel his muscles relax out of the tense state they'd been in and he hopped off the bed to walk over and meet his brother and adoptive father. Since both of them were human, maybe they could help him return to his human form.

"Hey, Michael," greeted a tall, slightly shaggy dog with golden fur. It's pink tongue lolled out the side of its open mouth, which was pulled up in a smile at the corners.

"A-Amer..." Canada could only stare up at the other dog with wide eyes. He swallowed before saying, "America?"

The orange dog looked over at the blond border collie to the left of America-dog. "England?" Another dog bounded up behind the others, towering over them both. It was almost rust colored with slightly darker markings on its face and toes. "Hiya, Canada," it greeted and wagged its tail. The voice sounded familiar, but Canada just couldn't put his finger on who it belonged to.

"Um, yes," the collie answered, giving a sideways look at the brown dog. "I'm afraid it is us."

England-dog was violently pushed further to the right all of a sudden by the brown dog standing behind him. "Hej," he protested, sounding slightly offended and hurt. "Don't forget about me." The dog faced Canada and whimpered.

"Denmark, you git!" England growled as he pulled himself from the floor and into a sitting position. "If you wanted to get past me, all you had to do was say 'please'!"

The orange dog lowered his eyes and shuffled his forepaws. "Oh...hi, Denmark." He looked up at the trio and sighed. "So I guess I wasn't the only one who was turned into a dog, eh?" His purple eyes shifted over to his brother. "Please tell my you had nothing to do with this, America..."

"He did!" both England and Denmark woofed simultaneously, earning them a gasp and a glare from the dog wearing the United States tags on his collar. "Well you did," the border collie snorted.

Canada sighed again and mumbled "I kind of figured that," ignoring the hurt look America-dog shot him, having hear the Canadian's statement. The orange dog waved his feathery tail in the air behind him. "What are you guys doing at my place anyway?" he questioned.

Just as England was about to open up his mouth to say something, he was once again shoved away, this time by America who eagerly started explaining things.

"We wanted to know if you were affected by the spell," he barked. "So far, we've only seen you, ourselves and England's brothers as dogs. I'm not sure if any of the other nations are puppies yet or what."

"You actually remember where I lived?" That was weird. America never knew where Canada lived unless the quiet country reminded him on several occasions. The golden dog threw his head back and unleashed his mighty "hero laugh" before looking down and patting his brother on the shoulder. Very hard.

"_Of course!_ Why wouldn't I know where my own brother lived, Mickey?"

"It's Matthew," he grunted and pushed away the heavy-handed dog's paw. He didn't mind America using his human name, it didn't offended him as it did to the other nations, but he absolutely hated it when America got it wrong. Which was the majority of the time.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Marcus. Hey, what kinda dog are you anyway?"

'_Marcus? Really? Oh mon Dieu, America. That one's not even close to my name._' he Canadian then took the time to give himself another quick look over. "I think I'm a Toller. I mean, I look like one."

"A what?" Alfred laughed and stretched his neck out to sniff at Canada's collar, but other nation backed away. "A-anyway, what breed are you, America?"

Denmark opened up his mouth, "A mutt-"

"A Hero Dog!" the super nation yelled proudly with his chest puffed out.

Canada eyed him. "Right..."

An annoyed groan caught the attention of the orange dog, and he craned his neck to see England struggling to try and flip himself upright. '...He'll be alright,' Canada thought, believing that his father would be able to stand up on his own. He would make some progress; he looked like he'd be on his feet any second now. He turned his attention back America and Denmark.

"Ja, the "hero" here," Denmark pointed a paw at America, "He did something stupid with England's potions and made something magical that turned us all into dogs." As he was saying this, America's ears folded back and he lowered his head, mumbling out, "You helped, too," through clenched teeth. Denmark continued, "From what I heard, he and England were supposed to be going to McDonald's, but England told him no. Being the big baby he is, America couldn't take no for an answer-"

"And the you showed up and we both back into his house after he went upstairs-"

"America had this sudden urge to go explore the rest of the house-"

"Then we found this room full of bottles and well..." America trailed off.

"You two fooled around with England's potions,"

"You guys went and fooled around with the potions, right?" Canada asked in a matter-of-factly tone, watching both dogs nod. He shook his head. "Why are you two always so destructive?" Both of them gave sheepish smiles and shrugged, having no real answer to the northern nation's question."

"And you two destroyed my house!"

"Ja, what he said."

Behind Canada, all four of England's legs stretched out in the air as he struggled to pull himself back to his feet. He was finally able to do so after Canada slid past his brother's frame in the doorway and helped roll the older dog over. Once he was back on his feet, England cautiously backed away from the ones who had pushed him over in the first place, and Canada followed him a few paces down the hallway.

England inhaled deeply to steady himself and force the plans of taking revenge on both America and Denmark to the back of his mind. He thought about making the two of them rebuild his place without pay, but that wasn't the problem right now; he'd have to worry about sweet, sweet vengeance later.

The blond collie heaved an exasperate sigh and turned to face Canada. "Alright," he started, "I'm going to try and make an elixir to reverse the transformations, but first, we need to find out if anyone else has been turned into a dog so I can make the right amount to cure everyone who was affected."

Canada nodded. "Maybe calling the other nations would help-"

England stopped him by shaking his head. "We already tried that, but I'm afraid that the toes on our paws are far too big to press a single digit on a phone."

"So walking it is. Okay, I'll go get the other two." Canada turned and padded back to his bedroom's doorway, but what he saw caused him to stop dead in his tracks.

A look of sheer horror formed on his face at the event unfolding in front of him. Denmark and America were currently in the middle of a game of tug-o-war.

With Matthew's bed sheets. "What are you..._doing?_" he half asked, half yelled and the other nations' ears perked up. They quickly paused their game to turn and look at who had decided to interrupt. They saw the youngest of the countries standing in the doorway, mouth half open. Denmark immediately dropped his half of the blanket, but America stayed latch on to his. "Nothing. W-we're not doing anything," Denmark stuttered, but his face dropped and a peeved frown stretch across his face as America said, "Hey, Mattie, you wanna play?" America's voice was in a cheery tone as he remained completely oblivious to his brother's dismay.

Canada slowly shook his head. "No...never mind. Just come on, the both of you. England's ready to go and check on the others."

Denmark hopped over half of the sheet that lay by his feet and walked out the doorway. He was quickly followed by Canada and America, who groaned, "Aw! Already? We were in the middle of a game." He continued to pout and Canada rolled his eyes. They met up with England in the hallway; England told them where they were headed to -the park, "with no more distractions"- the older nation took caution of America and Denmark, remembering how they trampled over him back at his house, after the announcement. He trailed behind the other three counties as they all cautiously stepped over the mess of broken glass and splintered wood left in the hallway (courtesy of Alfred) and headed out the front now-broken door of Canada's house. Looking at the derbies that surrounded them, the small retriever let out a quiet gasp at the chaos. Canada could only think, '_I'll just have to clean this place up when I'm human again. Maybe I'll stop telling America where I live, too.'_

Everyone else had already made it past the door and he was about to step over, too, but something off to his left caught his eye. It was Kuma...it was his pet bear again. The little mammal was standing near the door, again his head was cocked to the side. "Before you ask who I am," Canada started, "I'm,-"

"I wasn't going to ask that," the polar bear said in a quiet, saddened voice, eyes looking downward to the floor. It heaved a sigh and looked back up. "You _are_ going to find Canada, right?"

On the outside, the retriever gave a smile and said, "Yes. We'll find him," but he was jumping and crying tears of joy. '_He finally remembered my name!_' he inwardly cheered.

"Then...can I come with you?" Kumajirou asked, giving the nation-turned-dog a pleading look, and Canada could only answer with, "O-of course you can, Kumakichi!"

With that, Canada bowed down on his forelegs to allow the bear to climb onto his back. Just as Kuma...after his pet bear got into a comfortable position and Canada stood up straight, he heard America call out, "Hey, Melvin! What's the holdup man? Let's go already!"

"It's _Matthew_," the younger nation muttered to himself and hurried out of the door.

America was waiting right outside the door and Canada's bumped into his chest; the Troller quickly stepped back and shook his head. "S-sorry America-" He was interrupted by his brother's thunder ing, heroic laugh.

"Hahaha! It's alright, bro!" He reached out to pat Canada's shoulder again, but the younger nation's purple eyes widened and he ducked under America's arm. "So, uh, are we going or what?" the Canadian gave a nervous chuckle that was fueled by relief that he had narrowly escaped having a broken shoulder.

Across from him, Denmark nodded and wagged his tail furiously. "Ja! Hey, Amerika, I'll race-"

"No!" England was quick to put a paw to the mastiff-like dog's muzzle, silencing him. Denmark looked down at the shorter nation with an unamused expression before England said through clenched teeth, "Don't let America hear you!" He looked over to where the super nation dog was standing, but a golden blur rushed past him; it knocked England over in the process and yelled, "You're on, Denmark!" he barked and the two of them bounded off. The last Canada heard from them was Denmark announcing that whoever was last to the fountain in the middle of the park was a rotten egg, America's obnoxious laughter followed.

The orange dog turned to England and asked, "Do you want some help?"

Below him, England stopped struggling to flip back over and, defeated, nodded. "That would be nice. Yes."

Canada gave a half smile and bent down and nudged the border collie with his nose until he was able to roll him over. England stood up and gave his thanks, then the both of them quickly followed after America and Denmark.

* * *

"WEST! YOUR FREAKIN' DOG'S SNIFFING MY ASS!"

A black and tan German shepherd stopped trying to turn the handle on his basement's window to look behind him; he put his front paws back onto the wooden table he was standing on and turned around just in time to see his older brother come rushing down the basement stairs, followed by a small Dachshund running full-speed after him.

If he wasn't currently in such a bad mood, Germany would have found the sight unfolding in front of him very amusing; seeing his brother -the _awesome_ Prussia- running from a dog that wasn't even half of his size.

But Germany _was_ in such a bad mood right now. He had been mysteriously turned into a dog after all.

And Prussia _was not_ making the situation any better.

The eldest of the dogs ran right at Germany, but instead of jumping onto him, Prussia barely missed his brother's form by jumping up to the pointed-eared dog's right. However, that space was preoccupied; there were thousands of boxes littering that side of the table and Prussia flew right into them. He managed to balance himself on the very edge of the table, but it eventually teetered toward the right then suddenly jerked backwards just as Germany yelled, "Prussia! No!" He was cut off by his body slipping backwards, but, thinking quickly, the shepherd jumped off to the left just as his Dachshund did the same. After landing, Germany turned at the sound of multiple loud crashes and he saw smashed objects and boxes scattered across the basement floor. Germany gritted his teeth at the sight and sent a dangerous glare his brother's way when he saw the long-haired dog pull himself out from under the debris.

"You really need to learn how to organize your stuff, bruder," the albino dog informed his younger sibling and shook any remaining dust or broken glass from his long coat.

For his own sake, Germany decided that he need not respond to that; instead, the black and tan dog started trying to clear a path to the basement window. Prussia pitched in to help -and cut his front paw on some glass shards while carelessly pushing derbies out of his way- and after five minutes of making a walkway, the German siblings made their way to a smaller, but less crowded, table. The saw no need in trying to lift the toppled table back up and Germany hopped onto the other tabletop and stood there for a few seconds to make sure he was balanced. Again, Germany clamped his teeth around the window latch again and tried to twist it to left so that he'd be able to open the window. Achieving access to the outdoors would have been easier if the eldest of them hadn't freaked out when he woke up this morning and found himself as a long-haired shepherd. Prussia tried to open the front and back doors of the house using his teeth; he only ended up breaking the door knobs that were on the inside of the doors. This left the brothers with no way out unless they used the cellar window, and that's why they were down here now.

He had managed to get the window slightly open, but turning the latch any more proved to be pointless. His new dog mouth wasn't allowing Germany the ability to turn his head around with the direction of the latch without hurting his neck. The nation-turned dog grumbled something about wishing he still had his hands and the muscled dog then hoisted himself up on his hind legs so he could see if it was possible to forcefully push the window open using his back. After a few tries, he didn't succeed and he let out a groan as he lowered himself back on all fours.

"Let me help, West!" Out of the corner of his eye, Germany saw his brother launch himself onto the table and eagerly began prodding the window open with his pointed nose. Prussia wanted to get out of here just as bad.

Nodding in agreement, Germany got back onto his hind legs and began copying the elder's movements. After a while, he went back to pushing against the window with his back; eventually, the window opened and the two dogs scrambled over each other as they rushed out of the opening.

As soon as their paws hit the grassy yard, the albino dog let out a whoop of joy and jumped around. Germany, on the other hand, rolled his shoulders and stretched out his legs. As much as they loved the house their shared, they both shared the odd want to _get out _of the basement and _possible never return_...? Germany found that pretty weird. '_It must be because we've been turned into dogs_,' he thought, remembering how Blackie, Berlitz, and Aster loved to run around the yard or go on walks; rarely did his dogs want to return back indoors, even when they were all tuckered out from stretching their muscles all day long. '_Ja, that's it._'

Germany took a look around at their surroundings and saw that almost everything had at least two or three feet added onto it, making objects taller than what they normally were. The black and tan dog concluded that the extra height of things was because he and Prussia were much lower to the ground than their human bodies were. Germany was bought back from his musings when he felt something poking his ribs; he looked over to see his brother's red-violet eyes glancing up at him, the albino dog's nose still glued to his side. Backing off after Germany raised a questioning eyebrow, Prussia asked, "Was machen wir jetzt?" Germany already had an answer in mind.

"We go and find England. He can probably tell us what is going on." There was a poisonous edge to the German's voice as he said "England", and Prussia could only guess that his younger brother had already blamed the island nation for their transformation.

He couldn't blame him though; Prussia knew what England was capable of: magic and food poisoning. The former was what caused them to become dogs and the latter was what had Prussia hospitalized for more than a few weeks while everyone else thought he was dead. So he saw why Germany was so quick to judge the other nation.

"Come on, Prussia," Germany called over his shoulder, having walked a few paces down the sidewalk. "We're going to miss him if you don't hurry up."

The albino dog looked up and quickly padded up to his brother and they both began to walk down the sidewalk toward England's house.

* * *

**Translations**:

Mon Dieu - My God (French)

Merde - Shit (French)

Was machen wir jetzt - What will we do now? (German)

Canada is a Nova Scotia duck tolling retriever

Germany is a German shepherd

Prussia is an albino Altdeutscher Schäferhund

**A/N: **Yeeeeah...I know I promised you guys an update _yesterday_, but I spent so much time rewriting and rewriting, and rewriting this chapter that I went all the way to eleven-something late at night. And I found realized that it was too late for me to submit it. Yeah. Sorry.

Anyway, I hope you guys liked this chapter (even if it is just a fancier version of the old _Doggy Days_ chapter 2).


	3. Park Meetings

**Doggy Days**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

Three dogs were standing under one of the largest oak trees in the park.

Well, _one_ of them were standing underneath the shade cast by the tree's leaves. Another dog was pacing backward and forward in front of the others, and the last dog was too busy trying to catch a butterfly to pay attention to his friends. The dog who was under the tree trapped his paw in the grass and huffed impatiently.

"Romano," the pacing one said as he looked over at the other, a few locks of his curly hair falling into his face. "Don't worry, they will be here soon. I'm sure of it."

"You said that over an hour ago," Romano replied with another huff and lied down in the grass. He turned to his right, opened up his mouth to say something to say something but quickly realized the third dog wasn't beside him. The canine tsked and snapped his head to the left. There, he saw the slightly slimmer dog hopping in the air after a fluttering object. "Italy, get back over here!" he barked as the curl in the middle of his hair bounced angrily. Unfortunately, the younger dog hadn't heard him and continued after the insect. With a huff, the southern half of Italy hopped to his feet and placed one of his forepaws forward as if to steady himself. "FRATELLO!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. This time he caught the other younger off guard and the dog's muscles suddenly locked up in midair and his face swiftly met the grassy ground below him. He quickly got back on all fours and looked over at his brother. "Ve~?" the dog uttered questionably and cocked his head to the side.

The older of the two halves of Italy found the gesture -well, he'd hate to say it since the adjective he was about to use would be referring to his brother- kind of cute. But he would never _ever_ say that in front of Italy. The northern half of the country would just bug the hell out of him over and over again. And Spain. He would never let Romano live it down, so South Italy decided to just keep his mouth shut. He then noticed that that Spaniard dog was gone. "Oh _great_," he droned out. The Italian growled to himself then ordered his brother to get over to where he was and _stay right there._ He made sure his brother had heard him right -to stay put- before he went off looking for his childhood caretaker.

The journey was made even longer by the blaring summer sun overhead and Romano could feel sweat pooling underneath his thick fur. "How come _I_ had to to have all of the long fur?" he grumbled and switched off of the paved path he had been walking along and into the grass. The ground was still heated to about the same temperature as the stony path, but at least he no longer had to _feel_ his paw pads sizzling as he walked onward. Roman lowered his head and wished that he at least had thumbs to hook around the bandanna around his neck and wretch it off; right underneath the fabric was where the most sweat was forming and the bandanna rubbing against his fur did not help the situation at all. "This all Spain's fault. Dannati bastardi." Romano's pendent-shaped ears perked up when he heard faint voices coming from in front of him. He rose his olive-green eyes from the ground and saw the lanky dog's back facing him. How in the world did he have enough time to walk thirty meters from where they last were? Never mind that, all that mattered was that he found him. "Spain!" South Italy called out to get his caretaker's attention. Spain paused in what he was doing to look over his shoulder, and that was when Romano saw that he had been speaking to two other dogs. One was taller than Spain by a few inches and Romano was trying to figure out how in the world had he not seen him before. The dog wore a blue scarf with a white strip through the center of it; he had light brown fur that was peppered dusted with darker patches here and there, most of them were on his rear and tail; the newcomer's spiky hairstyle remained the same as it had in his human form. He raised his eyebrows slightly as he looked over Spain and down at Romano.

The second dog was smaller than bother her brother and Spain, and her medium-length coat was also a lot lighter in color. The only dark spot she had was the dark brown mask on her face and her tipped, triangular ears. She had a green ribbon tied into her hair and though it was clearly a dog standing in front of him, her lips curled up in a way that reminded the young Italian of a cat. "Romano~!" she sang and hurried over to him. The dog bent down to nuzzle her friend's neck and the representative of Southern Italy could only stand there as his childhood crush hugged him. He felt his face turn hot. He leaned into her touch. '_Riprendo ciò che ho detto in precedenza. Grazie a Dio per la mia pelliccia.' _Romano cleared his throat. "Belgium," he said, acknowledging her.

While Romano was busy greeting Belgium, Spain turned back to the other dog and opened up his mouth to speak, but all the scarf-wearing canine did was use his paw to shut the Spaniard's jaw and pushed past him. Spain thought nothing of it, shrugging his shoulders, and followed closely behind.

"Aw," he said when he saw Belgium and Romano, "You two look so cute together." Despite the everlasting cheeriness in the older dog's tone, the Spanish dog's words caused Lovino's calm expression to fall, getting replaced by a scowl directed to his friend; the curl jutting out from the center of his hair suddenly became distraught and Romano lifted his lip a little. The tall dog caught on to what the expression meant and replied with a sheepish smile. "A-anyway, didn't you miss me as well, Belgium? Can I get a hug, too?" Spain said down on his haunches and spread his forelegs with a smile on his face. The female dog turned to him and was about to agree, but a high-pitched yelp escaped Spain's lips. Romano looked over to see that the Netherlands had smashed the skinny dog's hind foot underneath his one of his own heavy paws. "Eh...o-or...maybe not..."

With a snort, the representative of the Netherlands removed his paw from on top of Spain's. He ignored the "I'm disappointed in you" look that his younger sister gave him and sat in the small space between her and Romano, causing both dogs to scoot over to allow him enough room. Belgium rolled her eyes and South Italy got up from his spot.

"Okay Spain," the Netherlands said around the smoking pipe in his mouth. "You have asked us to come here because you have something important to tell us." After taking a draw on the pipe, he continued, "Now what is it?" The brown dog lifted an eyebrow as he impatiently waited on the Spanish nation's response. '_I swear, he better had not called us all the way over here for nothing.'_

"Did you not say that we should all go to England's house?" Belgium chimed in and Spain nodded.

"Si. I thought I told both of you that already-"

"You told my _sister_," the Netherlands interjected.

From where he stood off to the side, Romano could only think, '_Here we go_,' as he prepared himself for an argument between Spain and the blond bastard with Belgium trying to break them up without getting physically involved. '_Can we just go to England to reverse this spell and not do this?'_ Suddenly, the Italian dog's eyes went wide in realization and Romano was on his feet and turning on his heel in an instant. "Merda!" he exclaimed and the other three only caught a glimpse of him taking off.

"Romano! Where are you going?" Spain called after him.

"I left Italy by himself!"

Meanwhile, Italy was happily jumping in a circle around a much larger German shepherd dog.

"Ve~ Germany, Germany! You've been turned into a fog, too?" he asked as he bounded around on his tiny white paws. Above him, the shepherd released the breath he was holding in as a very long and very annoyed sigh. Italy's jumping was getting on his nerves.

_Bounce. Bounce. Bounce._

"How come you're at the park? Did Spain as you to come meet up with us, too? Huh?"

_Bounce. Bounce. Bounce._

Germany's left eye twitched.

"Italy," he growled. "Stop bouncing around!" The tip of his tail flicked in the air when he realized that the Italian hadn't stopped moving. Italy had not heard him, too excited to see his best friend in the whole wide world, and droned out the German's order -or perhaps Italy had just chose to disregard him altogether; whatever the reason, Germany was still getting pissed off very quickly. Germany closed his eyes and slowly started to count backwards from ten...but that would have been so much easier had Italy not started yipping as well. Brows furrowed, Germany bared his teeth. "Verdammt, Italy! Stop bouncing-"

The shepherd felt his short fur get rustled by a gust of wind and he popped his eyes back open just in time to see a white blur tackle his friend. Before he had the chance to freak out and scream the Italian's name, Germany saw that it was no one other than Prussia who had jumped on Italy.

Prussia landed on all fours, his upper body hunched over as he strained to balance himself above the frightened Italian greyhound. After he steadied himself, a wicked smile formed on his muzzle. "Hey! How's my favorite Italian doing today?" he barked and wagged his overly-feathery tail at a wild speed. "O-oh," Italy stammered and swallowed before giving a weary smile of his own. "C-ciao, Prussia. I guess...I'm doing good. How are you?"

"The awesome Prussia," he started and moved so he could sit down without falling on top of Italy. "Is doing...well, awesome!"

The albino's awesome smile was suddenly wiped off his face when he felt something ram in the ribs. The impact did not hurt badly, but it nearly knocked the Prussian over; red-violet eyes widened but he caught his balance and then focused on the brown canine on his left who had obviously been the one who butted him. A frown was etched into the smaller dog's face, his brow was furrowed, the whiskers on his muzzle and that curl in his hair were all distorted, and his mouth was open as he panted heavily. '_Did he run all the way here just to head-butt me?_' the shaggy shepherd questioned himself, staring down with a blank expression at the other dog.

An annoyed growl ripped through the air and the little canine attacked Prussia's side again. This time, he succeeded in toppling the ex-nation over. "Hey!" Prussia barked and hurried to his feet.

"Keep your filthy paws off of my fratello, Potato Bastard number two!"

"If it makes you feel any better, you can be my other favorite Italian, ja?" the albino said quickly, but all he succeeded in doing was making Romano's anger flare even more. "I do not want to be your damn favorite!" the southern half of Italy yelled and lunged at Prussia again. Prussia jumped back just as his forepaws left the ground, but Romano realized that his upper body had been suspended in the air. He knew better than to look back -really he did- but in his fury Romano snapped his head around to see who in the hell was keeping him from pummeling that ex-nation into nothingness.

"CHIGI!"

The first thing he saw was that two rows of sharp white teeth had snagged his Italian flag printed bandanna; the next thing his green eyes settled on where the creases in Germany's tan muzzle and furrowed brow.

"Let go of me you damn Potato Bastard!" South Italy roared in fear and angry. He used all of his might to tear himself out of the other dog's grasp. Unfortunately, his bandanna didn't make it was left as nothing more than a piece of fabric with eight tear marks running through it, leaving it shredded and raggedy beyond repair in the German's jaws. Germany was about to spit the bandanna out, but it crossed his mind that since it had the Italian flag on it, the accessory was still considered as a flag and should not be put on the ground. How disrespectful that would have been but...he did not know where to put it at. So Germany kept his teeth tightly clenched around the torn bandanna. He stood there awkwardly as Romano glared daggers at him and slowly backed up. "I did not like that thing anyway," he muttered. It was true, he felt freer without that cloth wrapped around his neck, and no one would be able to snag it again either...South Italy snorted at his brother's best friend, who just eyed him back.

"What?" he asked around the bandanna but Romano only averted his eyes to the trio of dogs rushing up behind Germany.

Spain was the first one to reach them. "What is going on?" he panted out, giving questionable glances to everyone present. That was when Prussia decided to speak up. "Your little _tomate_," he said in a mock Spanish accent, "Tried to kill me!"

"Prussia, I doubt head-butting will kill you," Germany said as he looked over his shoulder at his brother. The shepherd had gotten up a few seconds after Spain and company arrived and found a nearby park bench to sit Romano's bandanna on. It was still in a very bad shape, but at least it wasn't lying on the ground. Behind him, Prussia shook his head. "Nu-uh! If he had kept it up then he could have eventually ruptured some vital organs or whatever," he retorted. Germany rolled his eyes.

The Netherlands stepped in between the albino shepherd and the other lanky dog. "Can we all just go to England's house now?" was his question. He was steadily growing more and more impatient by the second and the longer they waited, the longer it would take them to fix this problem and return to their human bodies. The Netherlands couldn't wait; he had to go back home to make sure his kitchen was still in the same spic-and-span shape he had left it twenty minutes ago. "Let us just go now-"

"Do not tell the awesome Prussia what to do! The awesome Prussia tells himself what to do," the shaggy white dog barked out.

"Well you should have told yourself not to smother my brother!"Romano had jumped into the conversation now, fur bristled and teeth bared once again as he face Prussia, who scoffed. "I was not smothering him. I was just saying hello."

"By covering his body with yours?!"

Beside the two nations, the Netherlands rolled his eyes and took in a deep breath before blowing out a grey puff of smoke between his clenched teeth. All of this was _not_ what he signed up for. "First off, I was not talking to just you, Prussia. I was talking to _everyone here_." Again, Prussia just had to reply to that.

"Mine Gott," Germany muttered and shook his head at his older brother's lack of maturity. He'd be sure to give him a scolding when they were all humans again. The northern part of Italy quickly ran up to the two arguing dogs and forced Prussia, who had taken a threatening step toward Romano, backwards using his hind paws. However, this didn't stop the ex-nation from growling and staring down the other Italian. "Romano," Italy said, looking over his shoulder, "Prussia is right. He was just saying hi."

"And you! I told you to stay right there where I put you, not to go run off and play with the Potato Bastards!" Romano yelled and Italy lowered his head, casting his eyes toward the ground. "Mi dispiace." He took his forepaws off of Prussia's chest and shuffled them along the ground, his thin tail hanging low to show his regret.

While her brother had picked the argument with the albino dog back up, Belgium padded over to Germany and Spain as they watched from the sidelines; neither one of them wanted to try and break up the fight -even with the possibility of things turning physical- and end up with a broken paw. Sitting down, the Belgian gave both of them a weak smile as her way for apologizing for her brother's actions. Spain just nodded back, speaking for both Germany and himself. After watching as the Netherlands and Prussia circle each other as the spat out nasty comments in each other's native tongues, Germany finally decided that he had enough of this nonsense and rose to his feet. He reached the two canines in a few steps and when his brother walked past him, Germany grabbed Prussia's spiked collar and pulled him away from the potential battlegrounds. Of course, the awesomeness that was none other than Prussia put up a giant struggle to get back and complete some unfinished business he had with the Dutch shepherd, but Germany was a well toned dog and managed to drag his older brother a few feet off.

Belgium then approached the Netherlands and used her nose to nudge his shoulder. "Okay," she said in a cheery voice, hoping to lift her brother out of his currently annoyed-slash-inwardly-glad-that-he-had-won-the-verbal-battle status. "Um. We are ready to go and see England now," the younger dog added. Again, the Netherlands blew out a puff of smoke and walked off to where Germany had hauled his not-so-awesome-non-existing-nation of a brother to; his younger sister trotting close behind him. "Italy, Romano, Spain," she called out to them then tilted her head to the other male personifications who were continuing onward without them. "We are heading to England's home, so come along now."

"Coming," Spain answered and Romano turned to his brother. "Come on, fratello," he ordered and trudged off without looking back to make sure his younger sibling was following. Italy's ears perked up and he gasped, seeing that the group had a good eight foot start across the grassy park. "Guys! Hey, wait for me!" he yipped and ran full speed after them.

* * *

This was England's fault. It _had_ to be. And all this time he wanted to remain neutral.

Switzerland trotted at a quick pace along the only gravel path in the entire dog park, his signature rifle bounced lightly against his ribcage as he trotted on. A few hours earlier, Ukraine and Belarus had came over in search of their brother, Russia, but Switzerland hadn't seen him. He did, however, ask the Ukraine if she could keep Liechtenstein until he returned home with an antidote.

The tri-color dog was not feeling it right now; he was washing dishes one moment and then the next thing he knew was that he was lying on the floor with the plate that had been in his hands earlier broken and its pieces scattered about the floor. He found out Liechtenstein had been mysteriously changed into a dog as well and the only thing that flashed across the angry Swiss' mind was '_England'_. Damn it, didn't everyone else tell him to stop practicing his magic? He was no good at it to begin with anyway. It took Switzerland forever to unlatch and open one of the second-story windows to greet Ukraine and her sister, and it had taken him a series of nine tries to open the front door so Liechtenstein could join them. '_Maybe I should have let Liechtenstein take that stray dog in_,' he thought to himself, '_Then we would have had a doggy-door installed and that would have made getting out of the house a lot easier_.' The dog heard barking coming from up ahead and he stopped dead in his tracks. The Swiss dog sat back on his hind legs and drew his weapon as a figure he didn't recognize approached; the thing had four legs and a large, rounded blob sitting atop its head between two pointed objects that the Swiss dog could only guess were its ears. "What are you doing here?" he questioned as he steadied himself and had the rifle aimed at the two newcomer; once up close, Switzerland could tell that the oddly misshapen creature was actually some breed of dog and the thing sitting on its head looked like an oversized parrot with an owl-like face, dirty-green and brown feathers and some of the feathers curled on the sides of its head to resemble ram horns. One of the toes on his paw was all ready to pull the trigger. "State your business here."

The light brown dog and his partner stared blankly at Switzerland. "Why is that? I thought this was a public place," the parrot retorted, his feathers fluffy out in distress.

"It _is _a public place," the dog replied and then looked at Switzerland. "What's with you and the guns, mate? You were supposed to be neutral..."

Oh, wait a second. He _did_ know these two; they must have not looked so familiar because they had been morphed into animals. Switzerland lowered his weapon but didn't bother to apologize to the others. The dog slung the rifle back over his shoulder and returned to all fours. "So it seems that this _spell_ or whatever England has done has affected everyone," he said, looking the others over. "Australia, I understand that you are some kind of dog-"

"I'm a dingo!" the Australian exclaimed and the parrot sighed. "The brave -yet fierce- wild dog of my country!"

Switzerland stared at him. "Uh-uh. But I have not seen a bird like you before, New Zealand." He cocked his head to the side and narrowed his eyes quizzically. "What are you?"

"Defiantly not a kiwi, am I right?" Australia laughed but completely ignored the looks his neighbor and the neutral county gave him.

"I'm a kakapo, an endangered bird in my country" new Zealand explained.

Switzerland said, "Now that we have all of that figured out, I think it would be best if you two came to England's house with me. That way he can change us all back into humans at once."

"Wait you're sayin' England was behind all of this?" the kakpo asked and then looked off, muttering, "I knew he was a terrible magician, but this is a whole new level of _terrible_..." Below him, Australia barked another laugh. "Ha! I knew it! New Zealand, you owe me a Red Back."

"I'll pay you when I'm human again," New Zealand stated and swatted his wig at one of the dingo's ears. "Switzerland, lead the way."

The younger dog nodded and marched passed the two Oceanic countries who turned and followed. Switzerland stayed quiet but New Zealand and Australia were carrying on a conversation behind him. "What do we need to follow him for? We _know_ the way to England's place."

"I was just being nice. Anyway you heard him: England could change us all back at the same time."

Australia scoffed. "What if he's not even at home? You didn't thank of that, did ya?"

Switzerland stopped walking, looked backwards so that he could say something to the other nations-turned-animal, but then he saw something out of the corner of his eye. The tri-colored dog snapped his head to the right and screamed just as a group of three dogs jumped on him.

"Wer sind sie? Was machen Sie? Nein, ich möchte nicht zu spielen! Steigen _Sie von mir_!"

The Swiss country yelled again and this time he practically flew from underneath the other dogs; his tail was tucked, pressed flesh against his body, and his beret fell off of his head as he made a hasty retreat back to the dingo and kakpo. As he raced past, New Zealand asked, "Switzerland, where are you going?"

"Forget walking through the park to reach England's place! We will take another route!"

* * *

**Translations**:

Fratello - Brother (Italian)

Dannati bastardi - Damned bastard (Italian)

Riprendo ciò che ho detto in precedenza. Grazie a Dio per la mia pelliccia - (roughly) I take back what I said earlier. Thank God for my fur (Italian)

Si - Yes (Spanish / Italian)

Merda - Shit (Italian)

Verdammt - Damn it (German)

Ciao - Hello (Italian)

Ja - Yes (German)

Tomate - Tomato (Spanish)

Mine Gott - My God (German)

Mi dispiace - I am sorry (Italian)

Wer sind sie? Was machen Sie? Nein, ich möchte nicht zu spielen! Steigen Sie von mir! - Who are you? What are you doing? No I do not want to play! Get off of me! (German)

* * *

North Italy is an Italian greyhound

South Italy is an Italian greyhound x Afghan hound mix

Spain is an Ibizan hound x Basque mix

Belgium is a Belgian Tervuren

The Netherlands is a Dutch sheepdog

Switzerland is a Greater Swiss Mountain Dog

Australia is a dingo

New Zealand is a kakpo

* * *

**A/N**: IT'S ABOUT TIME FOR AN UPDATE HUH

This is not the best chapter I have written. The characters are OOC, the end of this chapter is kinda ugh. Switzerland, Australia, New Zealand. I'm so sorry for infecting you guys with the OOCness T_T

Here's a little trivia: China and the other Asian countries were going to be in here, but I was too (cowardly) to write them out because I was afraid of infecting them with the OOCness as well. They shall come in later, don't worry ^^

Also, I read somewhere that the Australian slang term for twenty bucks was called a "redback". I'm not from Australia nor have I spoken to any Australian citizens, so I don't know how true this term is.

Just to clear up somethings, Prussia and company are in the public park that America, England, Denmark, and Canada are supposed to be going to. Switzerland's in a dog park.

Also, I couldn't find any dog breeds that originated in New Zealand so I just made him a bird. A kiwi would have been too obvious, so I used the (just as adorable) kakpo.

Oh yeah. I should probably mention that they can also talk to other animals.


	4. Hey, We Found The Nordics!

**Doggy Days**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

Romania impatiently tapped his paw against the stoney steps that lead up to England's front door. The house behind him was a total mess; half of the roof had caved in, doors were torn off their hinges, windows were shattered and shards of glass lied all around the exterior of the building. His nose caught the lingering scent of smoke and cinder from deep within the house. For about the tenth time that day since he arrived at England's place, Romania inhaled deeply, forgetting that the smoke from the demolished house was still lingering in the air, and he sneezed violently.

The dog's shoulders hunched. How long was he to wait here? When was that annoying Briton going to show up? Slowly, inch by inch, Romania lowered himself into a sphinx-styled position on the steps. The wind blew through the mid-morning sky above, rustling the remaining leaves on the trees closest to the house. The Romanian's green top hat stayed atop his head as if it emitted some magical force that kept it from being tilted even by the slightest breeze. The hat had even stayed on Romania's person when he had been transformed into a dog a few hours earlier that day. Instead of immediately freaking out and trying to reverse the spell himself, the country representative decided that he'd go to the only person who he knew was capable of doing such a thing as this when they were ___nowhere_near his home.

England.

Also know as the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland.

Also know as the man who was responsible for changing Romania into a dog.

Of course, England wasn't at home at the time but Romania thought that he wouldn't be gone for long; if he had succeeded in changing the sharp tooth country into a pooch, then he more than likely managed to do the same thing to himself. A chuckle came from Romania's throat as he envisioned a tiny England-terrier running around in his basement as he tried to find the right potions to mix together for an antidote and yipping out curses in a high pitched voice.

However, since he was not home, Romania was sure England had went off to find some more ingredients to make an elixir to cure himself.

And Romania wanted in on the reverse potion.

He was so deep in thought that he hadn't noticed that a lone dog was trotting up the paved walkway. "I expected to find you here."

Romania's crimson eyes glanced up to see the source of the voice: a short-haired dog with dark brown fur. Though the dog's mouth was closed and his facial expression was calm, Romania could see that his grey-green eyes were smiling.

"Bulgaria," he said, feeling his lips curl into a smile. "Long time no see, huh?" His friend nodded and hurried up to the other dog. Romania's cheeky grin immediately grew into a wide smirk once he was able to get a closer look at Bulgaria. Suppressing a laugh, he said, "Nice mustache you've got there," and let out a quiet snicker. Bulgaria's face fell and he rolled his eyes. "Haha. That's ___soo_ funny, Romania."

Bulgaria moved over to his left and sat down on the step below the other dog, facing the path he had just walked up. By the door, Romania bought his forepaws together, laid his shaggy head on them and stretched out his hind legs into a more comfortable position. Strawberry-blond tipped fur from his head fell into his eyes and the dog gave an inwardly sigh. Romania had thought that being a dog wasn't going to be so bad at first. When he had awoken on the floor, staring at the carpet underneath his dresser, he had thought nothing of it - though it wasn't everyday that he woke up on the...he never woke up on the floor.

He should've thought something of it.

What really threw him into thinking something was off was when he tried to stand on two legs. A few minutes later Romania discovered that he was a large shaggy dog, but he was excited to find out that his senses had heightened and he could actually see in color! Wait until he proved America wrong. He still wanted his human body back, however, since it is extremely hard for one to open a door or unlatch a window when they had paws in replace of hands. Luckily the country representative was still able to wield magic.

Romania noticed Bulgaria suddenly sitting up out of the corner of his eye. The thinner dog's eyes were opened to their fullest as he looked ahead at something off in the distance and his nose twitched automatically as it tried to pick up the approachers' scent.

Romania raised his eyebrows at his friend, then he looked ahead to see what Bulgaria was staring at. A pretty good piece down the path were four silhouettes shaped like canines heading toward England's house. Romania didn't seem too upset about the newcomers - he thought that they were just some other nations who happened to be affected by England's spell, too. "Relax," he said to the dog beside him, who had gotten to his feet but remained in an unsure position; Bulgaria's spine had a slight curve to it, his head was head was lowered but his eyes were still facing the other dogs, and his ears were pinned to his skull. "It's just the other nations," Romania reassured him and watched as the Bulgarian dog's muscles began to loosen up some.

"But you can't see them clearly. We don't know if they are countries or not; they look like regular old mutts to me..." Bulgaria's eyes locked onto Romania as he said this, but the other dog just waved him off. "Sometimes you worry a bit much." Romania's lips curled back up in a mischievous smile when the group of dogs finally came into better view. It turned out that there were actually five dogs in the group heading for them, and Vladimir was glad to see one of them particular.

She had tight curls in her light brown coat - something that the representative of Romania thought were a drastic change to her human form. There was a pink flower tucked behind one of her triangular ears, long locks of fur copied her human self's hairstyle, and on her back was what looked to be a two sided saddle bag and Romania caught sight of the iron handle of f her notorious frying pan sticking out from under the flap of the right pouch of the bag. He stood and called out, "It's been a while hasn't it, Ms. Hungary?"

"Why did I not expect to see ___you_ here?" she called back.

Once the representative of Hungary and the rest of her group reached the steps, she gave a quick nod toward Bulgaria, acknowledging the nation's presence. Bulgaria smiled slightly in return. He then turned his attention back to Hungary's side and recognized the other four dogs immediately by scent. Sweden, Norway, Finland, and Iceland.

He hadn't even gotten a look at the other dogs' faces and already his mind was bringing up names to go with, what? Scents? ___'I guess this dog thing is going to take some time getting used to_,' he thought and decided not to worry himself over it. This was just a new feature that came with being turned into a dog.

Sweden was the tallest of the entire group, even when he was sitting down. His cobalt-blue fur was short and painted with blue-grey markings on his cheeks, along with his chest, belly and underneath his tail. A white stripe ran from between his eyes and down to his nose. Standing next to him was the smallest one - a dog with creamy yellow fur. Finland. He still kept his human form's hair cut - just like everyone else - and a white marking was present on the country's lips, starting right below his nose and arched forward toward his jaw; the markings on his face and belly were tannish in color. He sported a green leather collar with yellow bells decorating it and a rectangular Finnish flag as its pendent.

Next to those two were Norway and Iceland. Both brothers were about the same off-white color, only Norway's coat was a tad bit darker then Iceland's and the island nation's legs were stouter, putting his body low to the ground where his long fur swept. The Norwegian's fur would have been completely unblemished had it not been for the clearly darker markings on all four paws and the saddle marking on his back. Iceland had a brown patch over his right eye and a saddle pattern also.

As he looked them all over one by one, Bulgaria noticed that they were missing someone...they ___were_called the Nordic Five, correct?

"Hei, aşteptaţi un minut." Romania tore himself away from the conversation (argument) he was having with Hungary and hopped over to where Bulgaria was at. With his paw, Romania pointed at each Nordic country and mouthed the words, "___One...two...three...four..."_

"Why are there only four of you?" he asked, putting his paw back down.

"Where is...uh...you know..." Bulgaria said a bit stressfully as he tried to remember the missing Nordic Five member's name. He groaned before continuing, "Yeah, you know. That guy with the spiky hair. He is blond, loud, annoying and-" He was cut short by his shaggy-haired friend shoving him in the shoulder. Bulgaria looked up to be greeted by Romania's slightly peeved facial expression. ___What?_ Bulgaria mouthed, but the other nation ignored him and looked up at the oddly even-numbered group. "Where's Denmark?"

All he got was a snort and head turn from Norway, a nonchalant shrug from Iceland, an apologetic smile from Finland that made up for his unspoken words, "___I don't know, sorry_," and Sweden replied with, "We don't know. When we woke up this morning and went to go check on him, he wasn't home."

Romania wore a puzzled look. "Eh, that is weird. Denmark's usually tagging along with you guys."

"Even when we don't want him to," Norway added and Romania shrugged his comment off before perking up with a sudden, "I guess it's settled then." The other six dogs to give him confused glances, and before anyone could ask him what in the world he was talking about, Romania said, "We're going to go look for Denmark before he gets himself in trouble or ends up getting hurt." " The dog hopped off the steps and began to trot up the road. Bulgaria shrugged and proceeded behind his closest friend immediately, followed by Finland and the other remaining Nordic countries after their bit of hesitation.

Hungary couldn't believe her eyes.

"You are all just going to walk off?" She shook her head in disbelief. "We came all the way here in search of England and look! We are at his house!" she reminded the northern dogs and Romania stopped dead in his tracks. He turned around and said, "England will not be coming back any time soon, I'm sure of it, so we might as well go and look for Denmark to past the time. Who knows, maybe we'll find other nations who have been turned into dogs, too. It will be fun, right?"

"I'm staying here." Hungary sat down on her haunches in front of the door, rooting herself to the spot and making it clear that she was not going to go along with the other countries' plan.

"Suite yourself," Romania sing-songed out, a smirk playing at his lips. "You will be left here all alone until we come back for you~" He gave the other country a look of mock pity. "Oh, Hungary, now I feel so bad for you. I think I'll stay and keep this poor little lady company, guys."

Everyone gave an eye roll at that except for Hungary, who just uttered a short huff and flushed out of embarrassment -___Thank God for my fur!_ - and Bulgaria. He shifted his gaze downward and idly looked at his paws as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

Romania snickered and raised a paw to wave the others off then ran over to join Hungary on the steps. When he went over to sit beside her, she shifted away from him but the Romanian just moved closer as he tried his best to annoy her. Bulgaria huffed after seeing the two of them continue these actions for a few more seconds but then his eyes went wide in shock when he saw Hungary grabbed her frying pan by the handle, sling it out of the pouch and take a swing at Romania. Luckily he quickly evaded the blow and, though he had huge paws, landed elegantly out of her reach. Romania sat back and while pointing at Hungary, he laughed at her failed attempt to smite him.

Bulgaria let out a sigh of relief at not seeing his friend get swatted down like a fly by the riled Hungarian. "Okay, let's get going," he ordered the Nordics; he trotted down the path and the others followed.

* * *

For the three hours that the had walked no one said much to each other. It wasn't like Bulgaria actually knew the others to the point where he could freely call them his "friends"; he did happen to live in the southeastern part of Europe while Sweden and the other four who Denmark referred to as his "brothers" lived way up north.

They traveled in awkward silence for what Bulgaria could only guess was about an hour more, maybe a little bit over that - and hour and thirty minutes? He really didn't know - before the quietness of the day was broken by someone screaming at the top of their lungs.

"I thought I told you to stay the fuck away from my brother!"

Bulgaria stopped dead in his tracts and swiveled his head over to the right as his lopped ears perked up. He blinked curiously and tilted his head to the side as someone else answered. "I ___am_away from him!"

"Ten feet's not enough! Back up some more, Potato Bastard number two!"

___Potato Bastard?_ Where had he heard that one before?

"That must be South Italy and Prussia," Finland jollily chimed in. "I recognize their voices. We should go and meet them, yes?"

"I agree. Maybe they have Denmark with them," Sweden's gruff voice answered and the taller dog began walking through the thick bushes that separated the walking track from the one on the other side of the hedges. "Sweden wait for us," Norway said and nudged his little brother's shoulder with his pointed nose to get him to go ahead and proceed through the bushes as well. Iceland exhaled loudly through his nostrils and complied with Norway's request. Norway allowed Finland to scurry past him before following suite. Bulgaria lowered his head to avoid low hanging branches as he stepped into the shrubbery as well.

Once he was over to the other path, Bulgaria looked ahead of him and sure enough, there was Prussia and South Italy standing a fee feet from each other in the grass - again, he could tell who was who by their scents. Both dogs had their hackles risen and were barking angry words at each other. When Romano made a statement about kicking Prussia's ass, Bulgaria couldn't help but chuckle at that. How was a dog Romano's size going to-

A loud yelp was emitted from Prussia as the Italian dog pounced on him, allowing all of his force settle in his front paws, which he struck the albino nation in the chest with. Prussia uttered what sounded like an out of breath "woof" before toppling backward and hitting the ground on his side. The little Italian hopped off of Prussia, turned and kicked up a mixture of grass and dirt into the albino's face, and pranced away. While he was trotting off, Prussia sat up and sneezed, dislodging any debris that was left in his nose; a glare was sent the curly-tailed dog's way and it was clear that the ex nation was not ready to give up the fight just yet. "You little shit!" he growled and immediately ran after Romano, who glanced over his shoulder with a nonchalant expression. It quickly changed to one of utter alarm; his olive green eyes widened when he saw a huge charging mongrel racing full speed at him. His mouth dropped. "CHIGI!"

The southern half of the Italian Peninsula felt his legs automatically begin to move at rapid speeds, propelling his fluffy body forward as his enemy began to catch up.

"Preussen!"

The shepherd halted, nearly toppling over his own feet in the process, and looked around for a few seconds for who had called his name. His red-violet eyes landed on the group of five dogs standing about twelve feet away from him. Momentarily forgetting about carrying out revenge on South Italy, the Prussian frowned at Sweden. "What?" he asked. "You ___did_ just see what he did to me, right?"

Sweden ignored his question. "You need to stop." He looked down at Romano, who had quite running when he realized that the albino shepherd no longer posed a threat to him. "The both of you."

"Sie sind nicht meine kommandierenden Offizier." Prussia looked behind him to see Germany approaching. "Hey West! Look at who I found!"

Germany's brow was still furrowed when he reached his older brother's side. He gave a quick nod at the Nordics and Bulgaria then looked at Prussia. "What have I told you about-" Prussia gave a loud, exaggerated sigh and with a roll of his eyes he finished Germany's question: "Running off? Don't do it; stick with the group. Standing too close to your bestest friend in the whole entire world - also known as your potential love interest - and provoking his butt hurt older brother? Don't do it."

The black and tan German shepherd's eyes narrowed at the last statement - particularly about Italy being a love interest and...well he ___did_ like Italy but only as a friend! And they did spend most of their time together...and then there was that time when Italy gave him roses for Valentine's Day...___'Verdammt, Germany! Get back on track! That was all a big misunderstanding anyway!_'

Germany opened his mouth to say something but then his eyes snapped over to the other dogs. "Wait...where is Denmark?"

"We don't know," was the simultaneous answer from all of them, however Norway's voice seemed to stress the reply out the most as if he was already tired of people asking where his obnoxious neighbor was though he had only been asked twice.

"Ha! You are all missing your friend while my group - lead by the awesome me, of course - has everyone here!" Prussia mocked and he smirked mischievously when Sweden lifted his lips to reveal his canine teeth.

"Don't be jelly," the ex nation said.

"Idiota! Everybody is ___not_ here!" Romano walked up to the German brothers - but he didn't get too close - and his muzzle and brow were creased. "Where the hell is my brother, Potato Bastard?" Before Germany could get his statement out, Prussia jumped in with, "How am I supposed to know? I was up here with you, remember?"

"I wasn't talking to ___you_. Your name is Potato Bastard number two. Remember that," the Italian nation said in a matter-of-factly manner. He then turned his attention back to Germany. "You were back there with Italy - you better not have laid a paw on him and you'd better tell me where he is right now or I swear I am so punching your ear!"

Whether Germany answered with an aggressive tone or none at all, things were going to get heated between them really quick so Finland decided that he'd try and calm the two of them down. The spitz stepped between them and with a worried expression he said, "Romano, maybe you need to calm down for a bit? I am sure Mr. Germany did nothing to harm your brother; maybe he just happened to wander off somewhere?" He patiently awaited for the string of curses to fall from the Italian's lips, but those never came; instead, South Italy looked up at Finland and sighed. "Sure, fine. Whatever."

He walked a few feet back in the direction he and Prussia had came from and yelled, "Fertello, you'd get yourself up here right this instant!" There was no answer and no sign of his brother, or Belgium...or Holland...or Spain...

"Feli! I am not playing with you; get up here right now!"

"Maybe they're just taking their sweet time getting here." Prussia had noticed how distraught the Italian's curl had gotten and tried to give him some kind of hope.

"Don't talk to me. If it hadn't been for you, ___the awesome_ ___Prussia_, we would all be together right now," the smaller dog said without looking up. Prussia scoffed and sat down beside his younger brother. "I'm going to take a wild guess and say that you five have already been to England's place."

"Yes. We just came from there," Bulgaria said. "We," he gestured to himself and the Nordics, "figured that England was not going to return any time soon so we went looking for Denmark. Hungary showed up, too, but she wanted to stay behind and wait. Oh, and Romania stayed with her." He abruptly shut up when he saw the ticked off expression the albino dog made. "A-anyway, are you two going to just wait here until your friends show up again?"

"Hell no," Romano barked and took off down the way he had came from earlier and the German siblings watched as he sped off.

"I am going to go and find Denmark now," Sweden announced, and with that the tallest dog turned to the other Nordics. "Are any of you coming?"

"I'll go," Bulgaria said.

Iceland shook his head, ending his extra fur across his own face. "I don't think so. I want to go help Romano look for his friends."

"Then I'm going as well," Norway said. The youngest of the Nordics picked up that weird note that almost cracked his brother's voice when he spoke; Norway sounded, well, a bit hurt that Iceland was going to run off and leave him. The fluffy dog sighed. "Fine, come on then."

Germany, Prussia watched the other dogs go their separate ways; two of them hurrying off after Romano, the other three going to find the Dane.

'___Can this day cannot get any weirder can it?'_ Germany asked himself.

"Where's my brother at? And don't say he's at home. We already checked there like an hour ago! You two keep in touch don't you? Well you should know where he's at."

Up ahead were two dogs. One was quite small and thin; his fur was very short, his ears were semi-erect with slight folds at their tips, and his tail was long and skinny. There was a red, white, and black scarf tied around his neck. His thick blond eyebrows and hair cut, which were very distinctive against his merled coat, and the blue striped hat were a dead give away. Trotting beside the small dog was another one of greater height. Her coat was a mix of liver and ginger and was made up entirely of tight ringlets that also fell over her eyes. This dog's tail was also very long and gave Germany the impression that the appendage was hairless, but it was actually covered with short hairs. From what he could see, there was a pretty green collar around the tall dog's neck with the Republic of Ireland's flag as the metal tag.

"Selan' I swear if yer don't shut yer mouth," the dog with England's youngest sibling growled. "I will shut it for yer, do ya hear?" Beside her, the smaller canine stopped walking and stuck his tongue out at her. "Why do you have to be such a jerk, Aednat?" The use of her human name earned the Principality of Sealand another growl then, answering his question, Ireland waved her paw at him as if to say "___whatever_" and moved forward again. Soon, she caught the scent of two other nations -well, one nation and one ___ex_-nation. She raised and eyebrow at them before calling, "Hey! Yer two over there!" and trotted up to the German brothers.

"Well, well, well," Ireland chuckled. "If it isn't Germany and his brother, the non-awesome Prussia. Good to see you two again. When was the last time we talked, now?"

"Last Thursday," Germany flatly informed her.

A smirk formed on the Irish dog's muzzle when the albino nation-turned-dog pulled his lips back, haven taken a blow to his ego due to her words. "Hey! Watch your mouth little girl," the shepherd snapped and the dog with the ringlets scoffed.

They knew each other very well, but even before they had became the Kingdom of Prussia and the Republic of Ireland respectively, Prussia and Ireland never had a good relationship with each other to begin with. The southern part of the island of Ireland knew how to get underneath the ex-nation's skin -by calling him ___non-_awesome- and she honestly thought that a little childish taunt would just be brushed off anyone's shoulder. But, then again, Prussia wasn't just ___anybody_.

"Prideful. ___Ex._ Nation," she shot back then straightened her stature. "Let me guess," she started, looking the two Germanic nations in the eyes. "All of the other nations got turned into pooches as well, right?" She looked down at her younger sibling and sighed. "I guess we're not the only ones, kiddo."

The Irish dog flipped her curly ears as an itch began present in them before saying, "Me brother here won't take '___I don't know where Englan' is_' for an answer. Selan' and I already went by the Brit's place to see if that dunce would be able to change us back; I ___know_ he had somethin' to do with changin' us into dogs. But," she sighed, "Just our luck, he wasn't home."

"Great," Germany mumbled. So they were all heading there for nothing.

"Now what are we going to do? I do not want to sit here all day and wait for the others to catch up," a certain albino shepherd complained as he sat back on his rump. "Being bored is ___not_ awesome!"

Ireland opened up her mouth to say something, but the youngest of the German brothers beat her by saying, "You're not being bored, you're just being impatient," and stealing the words right out of her mouth.

"I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to find England because I don't want to be running around on four legs for the rest of my life! How am I going to lead a country like that? I'll be the laughing stock of the entire world!" Sealand yipped and a glint appeared in the micro nation's big blue eyes at the thought of getting away from his unusually cranky older sister.

"Hey! You'd better not. I already don't like yer an' that thick-browed jerk brother of yers with his stupid eyebrows and stupid accent. If yer get lost under me watch an' Englan' finds out, I will ___never_ hear the end of it," the sharp-tongued Irish dog replied. She immediately got to her feet and raised one forpaw to set down on the principality's long tail, however, the younger dog laughed before breaking out into a full fledged sprint down the path where Romano and the other Nordics had went off not too long before. "Just you try and catch me, Ireland!"

"Sealan___'_! Git yer spotted arse back here right this instant! ___Sealan'!_"

At the end of her wits, Ireland heaved an exasperated sigh and angrily stomped after the youngest member of her family; just before she passed the two shepherds, she to them and barked, "Me an' the brat will be at the statue in the center of the park waitin' on yer and yer group, Germany."

"We'll meet you there," Germany confirmed with a nod.

With that settled, Ireland turned forward again and screaming out threats of what she'd do to Sealand when she caught him, she marched away.

* * *

"Romano, wait up."

The small Italian dog swiveled his head around to look over his shoulder when he heard a voice followed by racing footsteps. ___That better not be the Potato Bastards or I swear I'll-_

Iceland skidded to a stop right in front of Romano, nearly colliding with him. "Sorry," the fluffy sheepdog apologized quietly. Romano just looked up at him and moved back a few steps as he said, "It's okay-"

Then Norway slid into Iceland's back and both of them fell over and landed on top of the little Italian dog.

"Get off of me! Get. Off!"

"I-I'm sorry...sorry." Iceland was quick to apologize yet again and removed himself from on top of the short-tempered nation. He gave a short, icy glare at his bother, but, as always, Norway kept his poker-face expression. Iceland sighed and scooted back a few inches from both of the older dogs.

"Why are you two following me? Aren't you supposed to be looking for that loudmouth friend of yours?"

The youngest of the Nordic's purple eyes immediately flew down to his paws. "I just wanted to help you," he admitted, "Germany and Prussia were not much help back there so..." He trailed off and awkwardly shuffled his feet for a moment before looking back up at the South Italy.

Romano shifted his gaze to Norway, wanting to know why this guy had followed. The short-haired dog shrugged. "I can't help too?"

Romano puffed out his cheeks at the other's response. He didn't want these guys tagging along -he barely even knew them!- but Iceland was right, the potato eating nations were not much help at all. "Yes. Fine. You two can help," he droned out, halfway regretting that he agreed. He turned and began to trot off quickly. "But don't you dare slow me down or I am leaving you, okay?"

The sudden harsh comment took Iceland by surprise but he nodded in agreement, though Romano clearly could not see his response.

"You didn't have to yell," Norway said in his monotone voice then he nudged his little brother with his nose. "Come on, Icey, before he decides to leave us." Iceland gave a snort to the use of his unofficial nickname, but the short-legged dog padded swiftly in front of Norway, eyes focused on the road ahead of them.

South Italy, Norway, and Iceland had been walking through the park for about an hour now and there was no sign that the missing member to Romano's gang had been anywhere near the places they had walked through. Though Norway kept his pretty much emotionless expression on, the older dog's body language was showing that he was tired and ready to give up the search. Iceland wanted to quite, too, but the determined look on Romano's face caused the sheepdog to reconsider and he kept marching quietly behind the Italian.

"Hey guys! Look what I found!"

"Denmark, put that down! You don't know where that's ben!"

"Aw, cool! Now we can actually have some kinda fun on this trip! Lemme see that."

"Nu-uh. Get your own, Hero Mutt!"

"I'm a Hero ___Dog!_"

As the trio was passing by a wall of neatly trimmed hedges, a chatter of voices invaded the air and Norway casually stuck his head into the nearest bush to see who was causing the ruckus on the other side. When he pulled his muzzle back out and turned to Romano and Iceland -both who had stopped walking and were looking at him with quizzical faces- the spitz said, "It's just America, England and Denmark."

All three dogs exchanged looks. Iceland and the smaller Italian dog both dove into the bushes while Norway watched them with uninterested eyes, however his frown had deepened at the discovery of the self-proclaimed "King of Scandinavia."

Across the way, America was attempting to yank and old, dirty red sneaker from Denmark's mouth; the more reddish-colored dog growled and pulled back. "I ___said_get your own, America! Now let go!"

England was standing on the sidelines, watching as a violent battle of tug-o-war with the shoe unfolded between America and Denmark. "I should have known this was going to happen. Ugh, we shouldn't have taken the scenic rout."

While those three were busy minding their own business, Iceland, Norway, and Romano made their way over to them. South Italy cleared his throat loudly once he was behind England and caught the taller dog's attention. The collie's green eyes had a questionable look in them when he faced the Nordics and the Italian. Skipping introductions, Romano went straight to the statement: "Please tell me you've seen Feliciano around here."

"Er, no. Sorry," England said, thick eyebrows furrowing sadly at not being able to help. "I've got a question for you, though; we were traveling with four people -er, dogs- and now we're down to just three: America, Denmark, and myself. I...can't remember whoever it was with us...but you have seen someone else pass through here, have you not?"

"No," was South Italy's blunt answer.

"Norge!" The over-joyous cry ripped a huge tear in the air around the other canines as Denmark dropped his half of the shoe and turned with a full smile on his muzzle toward his friend. Suddenly, the Broholmer reared up and proceeded to bound over to Norway, who stood his ground stiffly as if a huge mastiff was not about to barrel straight into him. Just as Denmark was right in front of him, Norway stepped to the side and the bigger dog tripped over his outstretched hind leg. Norway sidestepped the larger dog as he fell to the ground...or he ___thought_ that Denmark was going to fall to the ground. When a chorus of two yelps came from behind him, Norway turned around to see what was the matter. The mastiff was lying on top of his little brother; Iceland had gotten his long fur stuck on the brambles of the bush he, Norway and Romano had just came through. Unable to move out of the way of the oncoming "King", he ended up being used as a cushion to soften Denmark's fall.

England and America watched as Norway calmly strolled over to where Denmark lay and snatch his collar in his jaws. The Norwegian gave a harsh tug and pulled Denmark off of his younger brother, choking the other dog in the process. "Yeah...it's nice...to...see...you...too," Denmark managed to say though the gagging noise he was currently making. Finally Iceland got himself untangled from the shrubbery and Norway released Denmark as if that action was his cue. The youngest of the Nordics gave a wary glance at the gasping and sputtering dog on the ground to before he looked past the representatives of America and England at something that had caught his eye. Suspended in the air was a sleeping white bear.

"What...?"

The brother duo simultaneously looked behind them to be greeted with the sight of the polar bear. "It's a ghost!" America screeched and began screaming at someone -anyone- to kill it, kill it, kill it!

"Dammit America! You can't kill a ghost, idiot! It's already dead. I'm sure there's a logical explanation for why that bear's floating," was England's mater-of-factly answer in his matter-of-factly tone.

"There is no such thing as ghosts," Iceland quietly replied. His sharp ears suddenly rotated backwards when he heard the rustling of leaves from the wall of bushes he had just escaped. "Oh, there he is," a relived voice belong to a female sighed, followed by a short grunt as she pulled herself from the bramble bush. "About time," was a male's gruff response.

"Romano!" a cheery voice called out and Iceland saw a small and slender dog that reminded him of a miniature greyhound hop out next to his female companion's legs.

"Italy? I thought I told you not to run off!" South Italy barked as he ran up to his brother. "You're not hurt are you?"

"Ve~ No, of course not!" Italy exclaimed and pulled back from his concerned brother's sniffing nose. "I was with Belgium and the Netherlands the whole time. They wouldn't let anything bad happen to me."

"But where is Spain?"

"He should be right with us," Belgium said and took a glance around to see if she spotted the other dog. "Um. Any second now."

"Dudes! We don't have time to be waiting on Spain to get over here!" America shakily barked. "There's a ghost ___right there_! So I think the best thing to do is to ___ruuuun!_"

The retriever mix shot off and England called after him to come back. Of course, the frightened super nation was already too far ahead to hear. England scoffed to himself, "Bloody hell," before tracking after the younger country and forgetting all about the floating bear that caused this whole event to happen. "Hey you guys, wait up!" Denmark scrambled to his feet and chased after the duo, and Iceland followed close behind. It took a few seconds of contemplation before Norway stalked after them; he didn't want to follow the loud Danish country, but there was no way he was going to leave Iceland in his presence.

"Should we wait on Spain or follow them?" Belgium questioned. "I mean, were ___were_ looking for England after all and it would be bad to loose him...but I don't want Spain to get lost-"

"We follow them," the Netherlands said then blew out a puff of smoke. He started ahead and his littler sister quickly trotted behind him.

Left behind, South Italy growled, "Hey! What about Spain? We can't leave him!"

"I'm sure he'll show up soon," Italy reassured him with a smile?."

As if on cue, the pointed-ear Spaniard stepped out of the part of the bushes that had less thorns. "Ah, Romano, Italy! There you two are."

"Ve~! See? What did I tell you, fertello?"

"Hmm. I thought...Belgium and the Netherlands would be with you, Italy."

"They were," the northern half of the country spoke, "But they followed America and England when they ran off."

Spain's ears shot straight up. "What? They found England? Well what are we waiting for? Let's catch up with them." Spain lead the way to the others with the Italy brothers bounded at his heels.

Once they were out of sight, Canada whined. "Guys, I'm still here..."

"Who are you?" Kumajirou asked the long-haired dog he had just been taking a nap on. "I'm Canada," the dog whispered.

* * *

**Translations**:

Hei, aşteptaţi un minut - Hey, wait a minute (Romanian)

Preussen - Prussia (Swedish)

Sie sind nicht meine kommandierenden Offizier - You are not my commanding officer (German) (I think that's the correct translation)

Verdammt - Damn it (German)

Romania is a Mioritic sepherd

Bulgaria is a Bulgarian hound

Hungary is a mudi

Sweden is a Jämthund

Norway is a Norwegian buhund

Finland is a Lapinkoira

Iceland is a Icelandic sheepdog

Sealand is a smooth collie (I honestly thought about making him a cat, but -woo hoo- someone beat me too it Dx)

Ireland is an Irish water spaniel

**A/N: **I don't ship GerIta, but when I do, I make the subtle hints and stuff like that xD

(I threw a little bit in here for you guys who do like it)

Anyway, if there is anyone -___anyone at all_- out there who knows how to write out Sweden's mumbling voice, please send help! I tried doing this once, someone on one of the websites I found said "try dropping the vowels." And you know what? The words didn't come out like anything he'd pronounce.

I just touched on another one of my OCs here and the last two will show up in later chapters, but don't worry. They won't be getting as much screen-time as the canon characters considering that this isn't an OC-centric story.

Thanks for reading! With much love,

- KW


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